


Machka

by RosemarysBabysitter (TashaElizabeth)



Series: Goretober Prompts [18]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Consensual Violence, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 14:04:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12533228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashaElizabeth/pseuds/RosemarysBabysitter
Summary: Goretober Prompt: Crush





	Machka

Despite popular opinion, Aiden wasn’t stupid. Quirky, perhaps even eccentric,but he was certainly capable of independent thought, of self preservation. And he knew this had the potential to go wrong. He knew what happened to Enzo Amore. Everyone knew, hell, everyone saw it on live tv, Aiden too. 

He swallowed audibly before he raised a hand to knock on the hotel door. It wasn’t the honeymoon suite, but it might as well have been compared to the little double queens Aiden ended up scrunching into with three or four other guys. 

There was a noise inside he couldn’t decipher, either muffled or a foreign language. Steps toward the door and then it swung open. Or at least as open as it could swing, considering the size of the man standing behind it. He scowled, but when he saw Aiden the scowl lightened and he gestured for Aiden to come inside. Rusev was bare chested, wearing drawstring sweatpants low around his hips. He put an arm around Aiden conspiratorially. 

He could hear someone stirring in the bathroom and assumed it was her. Rusev drew Aiden toward the sitting area, the sofa and chair and the coffee table that separated them from the breakfast bar, the door to the bedroom. 

“How can I help you, my friend?” Rusev asked, not disagreeably. He looked slightly puzzled and Aiden thought that couldn’t possibly be a good thing. The door to the bathroom clicked open but Lana did not step out into the room.

“Actually,” Aiden said, “I’m here to see Lana.”

On cue, Lana sauntered over to them, dressed in a sinfully tight red dress, her barefeet shuffling on the thick carpet. Rusev looked from her to him in confusion. He pulled his arm from around Aiden’s shoulder. Lana replaced it with her own. 

She carefully brought Aiden’s hand to her hip, leaned in closely and kissed him. It was not a particularly sexual kiss but it was emphatic. His dry lips stuck briefly to her lipgloss as she pulled away. She cosied in next to Aiden and turned to catch her husband’s eye. 

Rusev’s face was stolidly blank. He snapped something at Lana and Lana leaned luxuriously against Aiden as she replied. Aiden wished he’d paid more attention to vocabulary when he was memorizing the Bulgarian national anthem. 

“And you?” Rusev asked him sharply. “You agreed to this?”

Aiden faltered, breath caught in his throat. He looked to Lana who was smiling at him indulgently. Her hair curled around her face and lit from behind she looked practically angelic. 

“As we discussed?” Lana said, nodding and Aiden was nodding too. He looked back to Rusev. A spark of something had lightened the look in his eyes.

“Yes,” Aiden agreed.”Yes, I agreed. She said…” He forced his tongue out to lick the sticky remnants of her kiss from his lips. “She said you like it.”

The way Rusev looked at him sometimes was difficult to deal with. Now was one of those times. There was yearning in there and a kind of smothered frustration. He brought a hand up to the side of Aiden’s face for a moment. His hand was warm.

Lana tugged Aiden away, wrapping his arm over her shoulder so that his hand was palm down on the top curve of her breasts. Of his own accord, he brought his other arm around her waist, lowered his face to the side of her neck. He swallowed the feeling in his throat, tried to summon up some bravery and then pulled Lana into a swaying motion as if they were dancing. 

He was expecting a blow, but he still jumped when Rusev’s hand fell upon his shoulder.

Rusev pulled him around, away from Lana and brought a fist to his ribs.

Aiden had long considered himself tough. As a kid who was into drama and singing and vaudeville history, you got tough pretty fast or you got dead. He fought people for a living. He was big, strong, capable.

Rusev’s punch made him cry.

Not a manly welling of tears either. Sniveling, sniffing, desperate sounds of agony. If he’d been able to parse words, he would have begged on the slightest chance that Rusev would show him mercy. He wouldn’t have, Aiden was almost sure of that.

Before the pain in his stomach faded, Rusev threw him to his knees. He took the impact hard, even through the carpet and he started to tip forward onto to forearms. Rusev interrupted, putting the sole of his foot against Aiden’s chest. The bare outline of it felt strangely intimate. Aiden started to reach for Rusev’s ankle but before he could get a grip, Rusev kicked him to the ground.

Rusev got a knee on Aiden’s chest and knelt down low to him. Lana was yelling, making some command in a language he didn't understand. Rusev hit Aiden once, twice, a third time and then lumbered his weight off of Aiden’s chest and pulled him to his feet. He could feel Rusev’s breath on his face.

Aiden was taller than Rusev, he knew that, but it was hard to remember it while Rusev was pulling him across the room. His feet dragged rather than try to take his weight.

Rusev threw him into the sofa, so that his shoulderblades hit the only vaguely padded back and his head rebounded off the plaster wall. He panted, falling forward until his face was pressed against Rusev’s bare stomach, breathing down into his skin and feeling his sweat drip down the length of his body. He brought his hands up, neither aggressive nor defensive, simply grabbed hold of Rusev’s hips, leaned into him and whined. Rusev was stilled by his proximity, or maybe the need in his voice. He stood a moment breathing heavily and then he caught Aiden up by the collar of his shirt and threw him to one side. 

Aiden smashed against the coffee table, pain lighting up where his shoulder had struck the corner. He sat up, his legs sprawling open, trying to stay low and wide enough to keep from collapsing to the floor. Lana strutted by him, lay back against the sofa cushions and crooked a finger to Rusev. He wiped the sweat from his face with one hand and knelt to her.

“Your part is finished,” Rusev said, absently. “You may go.” But when he turned to look at Aiden, Rusev caught him with his hand gripping the width of his dick in his tight pants. Aiden’s mouth was hanging open. For a moment, his whole body burned with embarrassment.

“Yes,” Rusev agreed. “Or that. You may watch her.”

Aiden should have watched her. She was beautiful. He didn’t.

Rusev reached under her skirt and pulled off her flimsy panties with both hands, flinging them away. They landed by Aiden’s outstretched hand and he grabbed them in his fist, waited for Rusev to glance at him and then brought his hand to his nose to breath in her smell.

He couldn’t see under her skirt, not from the angle he was laying at, but he could see plenty of Rusev. Rusev’s bare chest and the sweat beading on his forehead and his cock, long and thick, jutting out straight over the hem of his pulled down sweatpants.

Rusev’s mass dominated Lana’s thin body and that was more than Aiden could take. He shoved the waistband of his pants down to his knees and took his length in his hand. The weight of her breasts and the curve of her back seemed the only things keeping her from being ground under Rusev’s weight, from shattering into nothing, smearing into the upholstery.

Aiden wanted to be flattened. He didn’t know if he wanted it in the ring or on the carpet, if it was sex or self destruction. He only knew he wanted it. That it made his skin hot and his lip quiver even through the pain still exploding through his body. Every stroke of his fist rocked the bruising muscles in chest where Rusev had hit him and still he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. Not until he was pieces. Not until he was rubble.


End file.
